


fill up the space that I don't need

by haemophilus



Series: Transcendental Youth [7]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Attempted Injection Drug Use, Blood and Injury, Drug Abuse, Gen, Needles, POV Alternating, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 15:45:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,116
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13484691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemophilus/pseuds/haemophilus
Summary: Mac's first tattoo was the dragon on his right forearm.





	fill up the space that I don't need

**Author's Note:**

> So anyway this was supposed to be ~a coda~ and ended up its own thing. Content warning for attempted injection drug use, unsanitary injection procedures, gross body stuff (blood, pus, boils, scarring), drug abuse, and needles. 
> 
> Thanks to whatsupbitches for the cheerleading and golden_goose for discussion about staph infections.

_Who's to blame? I don't know. I feel no responsibility, though. –_ Don’t Fill Up on Chips

***

Jeannie was half-asleep at the front desk when the boy walked in. She pasted on a smile as he walked up to the counter. Bony elbows, pale skin, cutoff sleeves, and greased hair. The kind of kid who got tribal tats and didn’t tip. _Great_.

“How can I help you?” she said. The boy looked around the studio as though searching for someone else. Then, he turned his eyes back to Jeannie, confused.

“Where’s all the artists?” he said. Jeannie folded her arms, and stood up straighter.

“You’re lookin at ‘em,” she said.

The boy walked up to the counter, staring at the wall of designs behind her.

“Weird. I didn’t know girls could make tattoos,” he said.

Every goddamn day with this.

“Do you want me to make you one or not?” said Jeannie.

“Depends,” he said, rummaging around in his pocket. “Is this design too hard for you?”

He pulled out a faded square of paper and unfolded it. Jeannie pulled the design closer to her – a curvy tribal tattoo of a dragon.

“Piece of cake,” she said. “Where do you want it?”

The boy sprawled his right arm onto the countertop. Four ugly scars in a zig-zag pattern. His chosen design was the perfect shape to cover them up.

“Can you do it here?” he said.

Jeannie ran her fingers over the scars in an S-shape. “Like that?”

Her new client grinned brightly. “Wow. You’re way more smarter than you look.”

Jesus Christ. This was gonna be a long night.

***

“They aren’t track marks,” said the boy – Mac – as Jeannie prepped his arm with alcohol. “In case you were wondering.”

Jeannie’s hand traveled down to his wrist and bent it back. Healthy blue veins peeked out from under his skin.

“I wasn’t. Half of my clients have track marks that make your scars look like paper cuts,” she said. Jeannie tossed the cotton ball into the trash and snapped on some gloves.

Mac wrinkled his nose. “You see a lot of junkies in here?”

Jeannie placed the temporary design onto his arm, and pressed it down.

“Former junkies. People from NA like to get marked up when they get chips.”

She peeled the back off the temporary design, and held the mirror next to his wrist.

“How’s the placement?”

Mac followed the curve of the dragon with his fingers. His eyes lit up with a brilliant smile.

“Fantastic.”

Into the trash went the back of the temporary design. Jeannie hooked up her tattoo gun, and turned it on. The kid went pale. Time for distraction.

“So, how _did_ you get the scars, anyway?”

***

_“Have you ever thought about shooting up, Charlie?” asked Mac. He took a hit off his joint, and passed it over to his friend. Charlie wrinkled his nose._

_“Needles freak me out, man,” he said. Charlie took a long toke, and breathed out slow. “Like, what’s even in them, you know? Could be anything.”_

_Mac looked at him, dumbfounded. “That’s the whole point of – you know, forget it. Pass me the joint.”_

_Charlie handed it over, then leaned back onto his elbows. “You thinking about shooting up?”_

_“I dunno,” said Mac thoughtfully. “It’s gross but -  kinda seems like a pussy move to go on a bender without going hard, you know?”_

_He smoked the stub that was left, and rubbed it out on his shoe._

_“Seems kinda dark,” said Charlie. He squinted up at the ceiling, pulling a thought out of his addled brain. “Those trains in that, uh, England movie died from that stuff.”_

_Mac sighed, and buried his face in his hands. “How can one person manage to get the plot of a movie wrong so many times?”_

_His friend grunted in frustration, and hit the floor with his fist. Only Charlie could manage to go from 0 to 100 on weed._

_“Well excuse me for not remembering every detail of every movie I’ve ever seen!”_

_“Oh my god!” said Mac, throwing his hands up in the air. Okay, maybe he was the second person alive who could rev up on downers in three seconds flat. “All you have to know is that trains can’t shoot up drugs!”_

_“There are tons of trains that could do drugs!” said Charlie._

_Mac scoffed. “Name one.”_

_There was a quiet moment as Charlie thought long and hard about his stupid idea._

_“Thomas the Tank Engine,” he said, grinning._

_“That is. . .retarded,” said Mac. “Thomas the Tank engine doesn’t even have – goddammit, never mind. What is it with you and Trainspotting?”_

_Charlie leaned over to their pile of munchies, and ripped open a bag of Cheetos. He stuck one into his mouth whole. As he sucked Cheeto dust off of his thumb, he gave Mac one of his. . .looks. Clear and focused judgement, as though it wasn’t fighting through sticky layers of glue and psychosis. Mac looked away. He wasn’t going to ruin his entire high by being pissed off._

_“It wouldn’t even be heroin anyway,” said Mac._

_“What would it be?” said Charlie through a loud crunch. Mac’s stomach grumbled in response. He motioned for Charlie to give him the bag, and took out a Cheeto. God, that was good. Almost as good as –_

_“Meth –”_

***

“Ow! Goddammit!” Mac cried. He glared at her with watery eyes. “What the hell was that?”

“It’s a tattoo, man. It’s gonna hurt,” said Jeannie. Mac breathed in and out, slow and shaky.

“It didn’t hurt. I was just surprised, is all,” he said. Jeannie laughed.

“Okay,” she said.

The tattoo gun dipped into the scar in the middle of his arm. Mac broke out in a sudden sweat. He went pale, and his eyes darted around the room. Crap – signs of an oncoming panic attack.

“Hey, stay with me!” she said. “You still haven’t finished your story.”

Eyes shut tight, Mac said, “Shit, you’re right. And the next part is so badass too –”

***

_“You sure you know what you’re doing, man?” said Charlie. He picked up the condom package between his thumb and forefinger. “Like, this just seems way too complicated.”_

_Mac snatched the condom away, and put it on his own lap. “I told you a thousand times – the lube helps the needle go inside more better.”_

_He opened the package with his teeth, pulled out the lubricated condom, and rubbed it on the needle. Then, he put the condom on the floor, and wiped his hand on his pants_

_“Yeah, but like, it seems like you just made that up,” said Charlie. He picked up condom, and inspected it. “I’ve never seen anyone do this on TV.”_

_“You can’t believe everything you see on TV, Charlie,” said Mac._

_“I think you can believe some things,” said Charlie._

_Mac sighed. “Can you just touch the pot to see if the water’s cool yet?”_

_Charlie rested his hands on either side of the pot. He peeked inside._

_“I think so. But there’s no way there’s any meth left in there, man. You boiled it way too long.”_

_“The dude who sold it to me was greasy as shit. I had to make it sterile,” said Mac._

_“Yeah, but it’s like cooking off alcohol in soup, dude. You leave it going too long and then you can’t get drunk off it anymore,” said Charlie. He pushed the pot over towards Mac. “Plus, there wasn’t much meth in there to begin with.”_

_“It doesn’t matter. Trust me,” said Mac. He took the top off the pot. The clear water reflected the yellow light of Sully’s ceiling fixture. His hands started shaking. This was it._

_“Are you really sure you wanna do this?” asked Charlie._

_Mac ran his hand through his hair; it came back greasy and wet. He was sweating._

_“Yeah. But get me a glass of water. I wanna practice first,” he said._

_Charlie got up, and went to the kitchen. Mac held the syringe up to his face. He flicked at the tip that was about to go. . ._

_His right arm was winter-pale. The last time he went outside was a mystery. It must have been recent if he was stocked up on meth and . . . meth supplies. Supplies for meth. Very sharp, shiny supplies to stick meth right inside his veins. Which he was totally gonna do. Because he wasn’t some sort of pussy. He wasn’t._

_“Here you go, man,” said Charlie. Mac tore his eyes away from the needle, and thanked him. Then, he put the needle down, and picked up the hose he was going to use to tie off._

_Okay, baby steps. But like, the badass kind. Badass baby steps. Towards shooting up meth. The thing he was about to do. Wrap around the bicep – tight until veins pop. Thin and blue. Draw up the water into the syringe. Tap for air bubbles – clink, clink. He’d seen that on TV – not that Charlie had to know. Ready. . .aim. . ._

_“Fuck!” cried Mac as the needle pierced his skin. “Oh my god. That hurts. Fuck, fuck, fuck!”_

_Charlie’s eyes went wide. “Pull it out!”_

_Mac yanked the needle out of his skin; blood welled up where it had been. He breathed heavily, and wiped it away with his thumb. Two holes. Under the skin, and out the other side._

_“I didn’t reach the vein,” said Mac. “Must be why it hurt so much.”_

_Blood began to leak out of the wound again. He winced._

_“That looks bad,” said Charlie._

_“Just gimme a sock so I can sop it up and try again,” said Mac through gritted teeth_

_Charlie handed him the sock. “Do you really wanna do that? Cos like, you can totally stop.”_

_“It’s all gonna be worth it,” said Mac. He laid the sock on top of his injury before scrutinizing his arm for another vein. His hands were shaking even worse than before as he brought the needle home. 3. . .2. . .1. . ._

_“Ow! Oh my God. Fuck. Nevermind – it’s not. It’s not!”_

***

Jeannie rolled away from the table to switch from black to blue ink.

“So lemme get this straight. You don’t have track marks. . .because you couldn’t figure out how to shoot up?”

Mac rolled his eyes at her.

“Were you not listening at all, lady? It has nothing to do with anything _I_ did wrong. Clearly, God just saw that my friend Charlie was leading me down an unrighteous path, and he corrected it.”

“By forcing you to miss when you stabbed yourself?” said Jeannie. “Seems pretty harsh.”

“He _has_ to be when you’re as badass as I am,” said Mac. Jeannie turned the tattoo gun back on.

“I didn’t know that was the rule,” she said.

“Oh, it definitely is,” said Mac.

Jeannie pressed the gun to his skin and began to work again.

“Do the scars have anything to do with God’s wrath?”

Mac nodded solemnly. “Absolutely –”

***

_“Dude, your arm is not looking good,” said Charlie. It was true – inflammation from the four abscesses peeked out from underneath their Spider-Man Band-Aids. Mac tried hard to not wince as he rolled his wrist around. The pain shot up his entire arm – but Charlie didn’t need to know that. Mac was in far too much pain to get an ‘I told you so’ on top of it._

_“It just needs to be sterilized,” said Mac. “Gimme the hydrogen peroxide.”_

_Charlie unscrewed the cap, and placed the bottle next to Mac’s knee. Mac grabbed the edge of one of his Band-Aids, and braced himself. One breath, two, three – riiiiip!_

_“Fuck!”_

_He squeezed his eyes shut instinctively, and gripped his forearm._

_“Gross,” said Charlie in an awed voice._

_Mac opened his eyes a sliver to look at the injury. A throbbing, leaking boil greeted him._

_“Holy shit,” said Mac. “That is. . .enormous.”_

_Charlie nodded; his mouth was open. Tentatively, he reached over, and tapped the boil._

_“Ow! What the hell, Charlie?” said Mac. His eyes watered from the pain – don’t cry, don’t cry!_

_“Dude, that thing is huge! I had to see what it felt like!” said Charlie._

_“You’re gonna make it more bigger if you put your dirty fingers all over it,” said Mac. He picked up the hydrogen peroxide, finally ready to take another beating. One breath, two, three – sizzle! “Jesus Christ! Fuck – this is the worst.”_

_He put the peroxide down. Charlie picked it up, stuck his pinky in the bottle, and tasted it. Then, he took a swig. Mac wrinkled his nose in disapproval._

_“You know, I had a little one of these before. Right here.” Charlie lifted his shirt, and pointed at a small scar on his stomach “I think you’re gonna have to pop em.”_

_Mac gave him a look of disgust. “No way. I am not squirting all of the pus out of this thing.”_

_He poked at it. More pus leaked out. Mac swallowed a gag._

_“Dude, if you keep that thing on your body for much longer, it’s gonna start talking to you,” said Charlie. “You’ll have like. . .four other people just grown on your body. And I don’t think you’re ready to have kids cos of how you’re homeless and whatever.”_

_“There’s so much wrong with what you just said that I don’t even know how to tell you how stupid that sounded,” said Mac._

_“Yeah, well –” Charlie took a long sip of hydrogen peroxide. “I’m not the one with people growing on me.”_

_Mac snatched the bottle of peroxide away from him. “Whatever. Go get me some vodka and some of the oxy Dennis left here. If I gotta pop em, I’m not doing it sober.”_

***

“So God smited you. . .with a skin infection?” said Jeannie. Honestly, she would have rather he’d been a junkie. The last time she’d been this grossed out was when her girlfriend was in the hospital with an open fracture.

“Yep. And it worked – I haven’t tried to shoot up meth since,” said Mac. 

“I guess you learned your lesson,” she said.

Mac nodded.

“That’s why I decided to get a tattoo. I figured I got God’s message loud and clear, you know? So it was time to move on.”

Head. . .body. . .toes. . .detail. . .detail. . .cleanup.

“Why a dragon?”

***

_“What about this one?”_

_Charlie leaned over the table, and poked at one of the designs – three pink roses surrounding a unicorn. Mac looked up at him, dumbfounded._

_“What the hell, dude? Are you trying to make me look like a queer?”_

_His friend gave him a frustrated look, as if Mac was the one who was being an idiot._

_“I’m trying to get you to pick one, man! We’ve been in here for at least three hours.”_

_For the umpteenth time, he gripped the table and leaned back in his chair too far. It squeaked as Charlie scrambled to find his footing before it fell over. The first time he’d regained his footing, Mac had giggled. Now, he rolled his eyes, and looked at the clock that was just visible over the rows and rows of library books._

_“It’s been a half hour,” said Mac. “Why did you even come if you weren’t serious about helping?”_

_Charlie groaned. “I am serious about helping! You’re just taking forever.”_

_Mac flipped a page, shaking his head. “All of your ideas have been stupid as shit.”_

_“Yours haven’t been any better,” said Charlie, folding his arms. “I mean, a ghi? That’s just gonna look like a black blob if you get fat.”_

_“Why are you assuming that I’m ever gonna get fat?” said Mac._

_“Everyone gets fat when they’re old, dude,” said Charlie._

_Mac skimmed another page – flip – skim – flip – skim – flip –_

_“Goddammit!” he said, slamming the book shut. “Why are these designs so shitty?!”_

_He opened up the next one with an angry huff. Coolest Tribal Tattoos: 3 rd Edition._

_“Is that a dragon?” said Charlie, eyes lighting up._

_“Whole page full of em,” said Mac in a monotone voice. Charlie pushed his hand away when he tried to flip to the next page._

_“You gotta get that kind,” said Charlie. “Cos of um, what’s that saying? Follow the dragon?”_

_Mac sighed. “Goddammit. Chasing the dragon is heroin, Charlie. Which I don’t even like.”_

_“Mhm,” said Charlie, pulling the book towards him. His eyes widened as they flitted over the designs. Then, he looked up. “Gimme your arm.”_

_Charlie rolled up Mac’s sleeve, revealing the swerve of his four pink scars. He moved the book under Mac’s arm, looking back and forth – arm, design, arm, design. Finally, he stuck his thumb next to one. Mac tilted his head to see where Charlie was pointing._

_“Wow,” he said. “That fits. . .perfectly.”_

_He tensed his forearm by making a fist; the pink scars got pinker before he unclenched his fingers. Mac smiled as he imagined the dragon’s curvy body furling and unfurling overtop them whenever he lifted weights._

_“This would look totally sweet at the gym,” he said._

_“So badass, dude,” said Charlie._

_“Now all we gotta do is get this outta here. . .” Mac looked left and right for bystanders. Seeing none, his smile turned mischievous. “You wanna do the honors?”_

_Charlie gave him a thumbs-up before roughly tearing out the page. He handed it over to Mac, who folded it neatly and put it in the pocket of his jeans._

_“Stupid library bitches,” said Charlie as they walked away. “I mean, what even is a library card, you know? Giving you a test before you get to have a book? It’s bullshit, man.”_

***

“That’s all she wrote!” said Jeannie when she finished wrapping up his arm. Mac tapped the bandage.

“When do I get to take this off? I wanna see it,” he said.

“Leave it on for at least an hour,” said Jeannie. She handed him a piece of paper. “These are the instructions for aftercare – it’s not very hard.”

“What is the return policy if I don’t like it?” said Mac. God, the kid was such an idiot.

“There isn’t one. You’re stuck with it now. Forever,” said Jeannie.

Mac nodded slowly, still looking at his bandage. Then, he turned his eyes towards Jeannie.

“You know, when I first walked in here, I was like, ‘There’s no way that this is gonna work,’ cos I just do _not_ get the whole woman tattoo artist thing. But then when you started asking me questions about God I was like oh – you’re one of the good ones.” He smiled at her.

“Thanks, Mac,” she said. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

“That being said, I did _not_ bring any money to tip you –”

Jeannie rolled her eyes, and pointed towards the door.

“Out.”

**Author's Note:**

> An unofficial massive thank you to JamtasticX who, on June 17, 2010, informed this bluelight forum about his 'genius' ways to reduce track marks. http://www.bluelight.org/vb/threads/508235-Avoiding-track-marks 
> 
> Your 'brilliance' and the subsequent backlash in the forums was a great source of information on what not to do when shooting up. Wherever you are, I hope you're okay.


End file.
